Silent Protector. Barbara Phinney
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me,” she snapped. “At least Charlie knows me and would come with me!”
From the years of being a marshal and from the few years of being a pastor, Ian knew Liz needed to vent. She didn’t understand what was happening. She was only thinking of the boy’s best interests. So he sat back and let her rant.
Still talking, Liz held out her hands. “How could you just take off with the boy and not consider that others might be concerned, too? The police told me nothing and scared me half to death!”
Actually, he agreed with Liz. The police had allowed her to worry herself sick, and while that was legal, they didn’t tell him that she would do anything to be reunited with Charlie. And vice versa. That was a mistake.
He hated mistakes. It had been a mistake for him to be shuffled about the family after his parents died, and though it wasn’t a mistake to hide Charlie down here, it was for WITSEC not to warn him about the resourceful auntie. It had also been a mistake to underestimate the nephew who could sneak away with Ian’s cell phone when he was at his busiest.
Regardless, what was done was done. And at least the child wasn’t as traumatized as they’d first thought. Thank the Lord for small mercies.
Would that allow Ian to focus more on the other reason he was here—to build a church? To start the social program offered by Nelson Vincenti and his wife, the couple building a resort on the north end of the island?
No. Charlie’s location had been compromised. He needed to call his supervisor immediately.
But Ian couldn’t ignore his parishioners for the sake of one boy, could he? Was that what God wanted him to do? Forsake his job to help Charlie? Surely another marshal could step in.
“What right do you have to take Charlie, anyway?” Liz was still blasting him. “What makes you think that you can give him what he needs when you don’t even know what his needs are? What if Charlie gets sick or needs special education?”
Ian schooled his features. “His needs would be met by the Department of Justice. Or by other programs here at Moss Point. Nelson and Annette Vincenti have started a foundation here called ‘The Shepherd’s Smile.’ It works exclusively with families in vulnerable situations providing medical care, education and Bible classes. I’ve been hired to implement it here. And in case you didn’t notice, the children around here aren’t living in the lap of luxury.”
He had no plans to tell her any more than that.
If Ian was expecting Liz to show any sort of contrition, he wasn’t going to get it. She shook her head, feeling her damp, dark curls bounce around. “I don’t live in the lap of luxury, either. And material wealth isn’t as important to me as you seem to think. But if you’re here to implement a social program, then why bring Charlie here to add to the need? And for that matter, why were you approached to take him in the first place? The police gave him to you, right? It doesn’t make any sense. Who exactly are you that the police trust you and not me to be his guardian? And why would the Department of Justice care about him?”
She knew at a glance that he hadn’t expected her questions. Or that she wasn’t about to be browbeaten. She’d lived on her own long enough to know how to stand up for herself.
“So why were you selected?” she asked, slipping off the exam table.
He sighed. He studied her before answering. “I am—I used to be a U.S. Marshal, specializing in children’s safety.” He noticed her deepening frown, then added, “The U.S. Marshal Service is part of the Department of Justice and handles witness security. In most cases involving juveniles, we have female officers, but some boys respond better to men than women, so a few males were also trained. I was one of them.”
That made sense. Charlie had always been with his father. Relating to a man came more naturally to him.
“I left the U.S. Marshals when I accepted the call from God to be a pastor,” he went on. “Then Annette Vincenti, the woman who created ‘The Shepherd’s Smile,’ heard about me from George and Elsie Wilson and she hired me to administer her new program. It includes planting a church here in Moss Point. Until now, only a few people have been going to the Wilsons’ house for Bible study. It’s too far to travel to the nearest church on the mainland.”
She’d heard of church planters, though the name conjured up silly pastoral images. Church planters started churches in communities that had none. They were as devoted as any missionary might be. They trained lay pastors, built churches and strengthened communities.
This was too confusing. Okay, she could see Ian in the missionary part but as a U.S. Marshal? Protecting Charlie? And yet he wasn’t told about Charlie’s closest relative who visited every week?
“But you retired from the U.S. Marshal Service, you said. Why are you back?”
“I also signed a little-used recall clause, something created after 9/11, I’m told. If they needed me, they could reinstate me. I could have refused because of my work here, but when I read Charlie’s case file I knew I needed to help him.” He lifted his chin. “And I knew I could do both jobs at the same time.”
Liz walked around the clinic, stopping at the glass cabinet that held various medical supplies. “Why Charlie? He’s just a little boy. He’s not some snitch from the mafia.”
“He’s in danger.”
“Of what?”
“Of being killed by the same man who killed his father.”
She gasped. The man who shot Jerry would come after Charlie?
She pressed through her fear. “How? Why? I don’t understand. He’s just a kid.”
“Charlie is a witness, Liz. He has seen his father’s killer. We need him to identify Jerry’s murderer.”
“You need him?” She tightened her lips before speaking again. “What about his needs? Hasn’t he suffered enough without being dragged from everything he’s known to come down here in this heat, to live with strangers? He needs to feel safe—not scared out of his wits.”
Ian had stood when she started talking but now sat down at the nurse’s desk. After a thought, he pulled out his gun and began to disassemble it. He was obviously a patient man, though to try guilt on her meant he didn’t know her very well. But he was patient enough to try reaching her with other tactics. “If Charlie testifies against his father’s killer, he can bring down that man. But if that man stays free, he could destroy many lives—more than you know. And destroy any chance Charlie has for a normal life.”
“Charlie’s only ten years old! How can his testimony even be accepted in court?” She rubbed her forehead, trying to keep straight everything Ian was firing at her.
“Children younger than Charlie have testified successfully. It depends on the child, on what they saw and how it’s presented in court. We’re hopeful that he can help us bring his father’s killer to justice.”
Liz went cold, feeling the air conditioner much more. So that was it. They had stolen Charlie, hoping he’d give a statement they could use in court, without a smidgen of care for his emotional well-being.
No, that wasn’t completely true. They needed to keep the boy safe physically first. It was reasonable to put Charlie into some kind of protective custody, and if he was emotionally secure, he’d be more likely to talk. They’d do their best to reassure him.
“Why couldn’t the police in Maine just tell me that he was in protective custody?” she asked. “That he was safe? And why did they lie to you and say there was no one who would miss him?”
Ian’s expression softened slightly as he took some cotton wipes from a box on the desk. “We don’t tell people, relatives, friends, anything. Most of the time, it’s assumed that the person in protective custody has been killed or else the person we’re trying to prosecute may find the witness.” He inhaled. “As for someone lying to me, that’s an issue I need to deal